


thirsty

by willurosinmybow



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF, twoset violin
Genre: Daddy Kink, M/M, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, bubble tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-18 16:35:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21279836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willurosinmybow/pseuds/willurosinmybow
Summary: me, the author: i want to write about brett’s love of bubble teathis fic: *escalates wildly in a weird direction*me: wtf
Relationships: Breddy - Relationship, Brett Yang/bubble tea, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 14
Kudos: 160





	thirsty

**Author's Note:**

> Reference material:  
[Brett’s unholy love of bubble tea](https://imgur.com/a/JqDcVBk)  
[Brett shouting Daddy for free wifi](https://youtu.be/GQA3JdRziBg)

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm,” Brett moans from behind Eddy, and Eddy looks back at him in shock and alarm.

“Bro, what the fuck are you - oh.”

Brett is gazing reverently down at his bubble tea, not even noticing that Eddy addressed him. A good long moment later, he blinks and looks up at Eddy. “What?”

“Nothing,” Eddy says, and tries his best to forget about the sound of Brett’s moan.

*

They’re sitting across from each other at the dumpling place, and Brett is doing his level best to drive Eddy crazy. At least that’s what it feels like to Eddy. Brett is absentmindedly sipping his bubble tea as he scrolls through instagram on his phone. Which is fine, nothing wrong with that, except for the way he’s playing with the straw, licking it, swirling it around with his tongue in between sips. Is he - nah, there’s no way he’s doing this on purpose, right?

Eddy’s face feels hot but somehow he can’t look away. Brett looks up, tongue flicking the straw, and Eddy freezes, caught. “You decide yet?”

“Uhhhhhh,” Eddy says. He got distracted by Brett and totally forgot he was supposed to be picking his lunch from the menu. “I’ll just get what you’re getting.”

Brett shrugs and takes another sip of his bubble tea. Eddy watches his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He’s doomed. Totally doomed.

*

“Oh my god,” Brett says as he bursts through the door of Eddy’s house, 20 minutes late, violin case in one hand and bubble tea in the other. “I’m sorry, I’m late, just give me a moment.”

Brett puts his case down and produces a straw from his jacket pocket, stabbing the lid of his drink. Then he proceeds to take the longest drink possible, cheeks hollowing as he sucks half of it down at once. He only stops because he has a mouth full of balls that he needs to chew and swallow. Once he’s done with the substantial mouthful, he sighs in relief, like his life’s been saved. “Ok, I’m ready!”

“I... need to go to the toilet,” Eddy says faintly. “Be right back.”

*

Look, Eddy loves bubble tea, ok? So it’s not weird that he stopped for bubble tea on the way home from the gym, and it makes him a considerate best friend that he picks one up for Brett as well. Brett beats Eddy to the house by a few minutes, and he’s already let himself in and is lying slouched on the couch, studying something on his iPad. He doesn’t even look up until Eddy approaches his field of vision, and his eyes immediately lock on the bubble tea.

“Hello, I love you,” Brett says, reaching for it. 

Eddy holds it out of reach. “Say ‘please’.”

“Please,” Brett says automatically, eyes still locked on the bubble tea. He’s staring at it hungrily, like he’s completely consumed by desire for it, like he doesn’t even notice that Eddy’s right there. 

Eddy is struck by a devious and terrible thought. “Say ‘please, Daddy’,” he says, smirking. 

_That_ gets Brett’s attention, his eyes widening and darting to Eddy. He blinks, then lazily smiles. “Please, Daddy,” he says in a velvety smooth voice. 

Eddy cracks up, hands over the bubble tea. Brett grabs it, and looks up at Eddy under his eyelashes. “Thank you, Daddy.”

“Ok, ok, you win!” Eddy says, holding his hands up in surrender. 

Brett’s laugh is bright and infectious.

*

“Hey,” Eddy says weakly when Brett comes into his bedroom. Brett texted him that he was coming over and even though Eddy managed to text him back saying not to bother before he passed out, it turns out Brett ignored him.

Eddy’s kind of glad to see him, he has to admit. 

“Hey,” Brett says. “I brought you hot bubble tea. Thought it might cheer you up. Do you want me to hang out?”

“M’gonna get you sick,” Eddy says. He slithers up into a half sitting position, and Brett gives him the tea, and then pressed his hand to Eddy’s forehead like he’s his mum or something. 

“Whatever, you probably already got me sick,” Brett says, unconcerned. “Isn’t it that you’re the most contagious before you start showing symptoms? So it’s already too late. And I figure you got to be bored.”

“Yeah, a bit,” Eddy admits. He feels a lot better after his long nap, and he does feel restless after three days of being sick already. “Wanna play Smash?”

“Absolutely,” Brett says.

*

Brett drinks hot bubble tea differently than iced bubble tea. Eddy doesn’t know how to explain it. When he drinks hot tea, he looks like he’s in a meditation, like he’s in his own tiny private world that nothing can get into.

When he drinks iced tea, he’s entirely present in the moment. He’s possessive about it, touching the cup every so often as if to remind himself that it’s still there. That no one’s snatched it from beneath his nose. Like anyone could, with the amount of attention he pays to it. 

Eddy’s not jealous of a drink, for god’s sake. 

Then why does he want to grab Brett’s bubble tea and keep it away from him? Kinda reminds him of the time he pulled Melissa’s pigtails till she cried. He was six and he told his mum that he didn’t mean to hurt her, her hair was just so pretty and he wanted her to pay attention to him. 

Oh.

Eddy’s not six anymore. So he just kicks the edge of the couch instead, and pretends he’s not staring at Brett’s long slender fingers wrapped around the plastic cup.

*

“Hey.”

“Mm.”

“Hey.”

“Mm.”

“Hey,” Brett says, this time reaching out and tugging a small bit of Eddy’s fringe. Which is super annoying and also _weird_, like who even does that? So of course Eddy looks up, finally. “Wanna get bubble tea?”

“Mm,” Eddy says, and looks back down at his phone.

“Oh my god, seriously?” Brett huffs and collapses into Eddy’s lap, making him drop his phone. “Can we go get bubble tea?” He’s speaking right into Eddy’s ear, making him shiver. “Daddy, _please_.”

Well, and there goes all of Eddy’s brain cells, right out the window. What a shame. “You’re such a brat,” he manages, feeling light-headed.

“So what,” Brett laughs. “You gonna spank me?”

Eddy wraps his hand around the back of Brett’s neck, squeezes firmly in warning. Scruffing him. He watches Brett’s expression go from cheeky to worried, eyes widening in realisation that Eddy might actually be serious, before he lets go. “I only spank _good_ boys.”

“So... naughty boys get bubble tea?” Brett concludes, bouncing out of Eddy’s lap. Eddy sighs and gets up, admitting defeat.

*

On Friday, Brett brings Eddy bubble tea and gives it to him without making him beg or do anything embarrassing. Eddy’s almost suspicious. Then Brett sits down at the table with his laptop and starts reading and answering emails, not complaining one bit, although perhaps that’s because his mouth is otherwise occupied. Is - is tongue fucking a straw even a thing? If it wasn’t before, it definitely is now. Just when Eddy didn’t think the simple act of drinking could possibly get more obscene.

Everything is terrible. Eddy is terribly distracted, and he can’t focus on his own emails to the design team. 

>> Yeah, the picture of Brett blowing his bubble tea looks great!

He catches himself immediately, and backspaces fast. Then he has to go back and read everything else he typed, three times, before he finally sends it off.

He finishes with his work at around the same time as Brett, although it should have taken him half the time. Would have, if he weren’t so distracted. Brett closes his screen and gets up, standing by Eddy and knocking Eddy’s elbow with his hip. 

Brett’s voice is soft and sweet when he speaks. “I’ve been good today, haven’t I... Daddy?”

Eddy’s mouth goes suddenly dry, despite the fact that he’s been sipping bubble tea all afternoon. 

“I want you on the couch,” Eddy says, not sure if the words he’s saying are coherent or even English. He can’t hear himself over the rush of blood to his head. “In my lap. Trousers off.”

Brett bites his lip, follows Eddy to the couch. He doesn’t meet Eddy’s gaze as he unzips his trousers, lets them drop around his ankles. Steps out of them, leaving him in just plain black boxers and red socks. He crawls onto the couch, into Eddy’s lap, warm and surprisingly heavy. 

Eddy pets his bum cheek, feels Brett shiver beneath him. “Ok,” he whispers to himself, and raises his hand. He loses his nerve at the last second, and his hand lands on Brett’s ass, barely more than a pat. Brett fidgets, hips twitching, head buried in his arms on the couch. 

Eddy wants him to be still. Without warning, he smacks Brett’s ass, the blow landing with a dull, satisfying thud that Eddy feels all the way to his elbow. Brett stops moving at once, his breath hitching in his throat. Eddy spanks him again and again, keeping count in his head, making a rhythm then breaking it, keeping Brett guessing. 

Around the 15th and 16th blow (or is it 16th and 17th?), Brett lets out a soft low moan. One that makes it clear by contrast that all of his moaning over bubble tea is just overdramatic acting. This is the real thing. Eddy wants to hear it again. 

He spanks Brett until his hand is numb and Brett is trembling and gasping under his touch. He slides his fingers under the elastic waistband of Brett’s boxers and inches it downwards, wanting to see his handiwork. Brett’s pale ass is marked with splotches of red, and Eddy swears he can feel the heat coming off of it even without touching. Brett sighs and arches up, and Eddy’s fingers touch the red welts, tracing over them unconsciously, some of them starting to raise up slightly from the rest of the skin.

“Please,” Brett says under his breath, almost a whine. His face is still buried in his arms and the couch cushions. “Please, more.”

He sounds like he’s on the verge of begging, and Eddy almost wants to make him, wants to wait until he’s desperate and crying for it. Almost. Brett _has_ been good, hasn’t he? Taking everything Eddy gives him so easily, so beautifully. Eddy runs his hand up Brett’s shirt, stroking his naked back, and Brett shivers, then gasps, rocking his hips. “Good boy,” Eddy praises, his voice coming out hoarse, like he hasn’t spoken in ages. Brett shivers again, and Eddy raises his other hand, aiming for a spot that’s still unmarked. He wants to see his hand prints _all_ over Brett’s ass. 

The next slap is startlingly loud, the first to land on bare skin. “Yesss,” Brett moans, his voice still soft, his breathing jagged. Eddy smacks him again, and is rewarded by another moan, and another, the sounds falling from his lips as he loses control. 

Eddy’s hand is stinging with the impact, starting to go a little numb, and fingering his violin is going to be interesting tomorrow, but he’s not going to stop, not until Brett wants him to. “You’re so perfect for me,” he marvels, pausing before spanking Brett extra hard. “Am I giving you what you want? Is this what you need?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Brett gasps out, his body begging for it even without words. “Thank you.”


End file.
